


I'm In Love With My...

by me413



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25013827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/me413/pseuds/me413
Summary: There are some things only men will understand.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Cid Highwind/Shera, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	1. Bike

"That's the last one," called Cloud, slinging the Buster Sword across his back. Taking in the small but scenic forest and lakeside near Gongaga, the swordsman had finished clearing out AVALANCHE's chosen campsite for the day. Aided by the ever combative Barret and their new addition Cid, the work had been quick.

"Well, ain't that nice, ol' blue eyes?"

Or it would have been quick had his two compatriots deigned to help him.

Barret's laughter rumbled, amused about how he had managed to cajole the blonde into doing the majority of the work. "Yeah, good swingin', Spiky. Those shell things didn't stand a chance."

"Oh, don't forget them big lizards, too," added the pilot, lazing against a rock with his spear and a light cigar. "What're they called? Gaggin' somethin', right, big man?"

Seated atop his own stony throne, the large gunner busily flipped through a magazine. "Gagighandi," came the dark skinned man's half hearted reply.

"And those creepy crawlies with the shells?" inquired Cid, puffing out smoke.

"Beachplugs," responded the exasperated blade wielder, tired of their laziness. "Which I fought while you sat around."

"Would ya get stick outta yer' bum?" huffed Cid. "We been runnin' around chasin' Sephiroth for a while now. Relax a bit. Heck, maybe Barret'll even give ya that magazine of his. Won't ya, big guy?"

"Ooh," exclaimed the individual in question. "Not now. I found a real nice one. Look at those curves."

The spearman immediately snatched the publication from Barret's hands, having decided that it was his turn to admire the pleasures of print media. "Ha, that she does. I'd love to get my hands on her! Bet not even cold-as-stone Strife'd turn down a fine piece of work like this?"

Eyes on him, Cloud paused as he examined the page in Cid's outthrust hands. After a few seconds, the blue eyed man replied. "I-I guess…"

Meters away, two feminine figures crouched behind a series of bushes, displeased with the swordsman's reply. "Really, Cloud? You too?" hissed Aerith, her jade eyes narrowed and focused on the offending document. "Are all guys like this?"

Beside the florist was Tifa, her cheeks puffed out in an obvious display of disappointment. "Seems like it," said the bruiser with a slight growl. "I thought he was different."

"Obviously not. But why do we care?"

"We don't. But maybe we should grab it anyway? To, y'know, toss it in the trash," came Tifa's voice, suddenly soft.

"E-Exactly," agreed the flower girl, her voice shaky but her expression determined. "Because it's disgusting when men do stuff like this!"

The fighter nodded in solidarity, her face shy despite the fervor in her red-brown eyes. "Right! It's not like we're gonna look at it to see what Cloud likes."

"What Cloud likes…" trailed Aerith as both women fell into a reverie, imagining the type of lady that could have drawn the SOLDIER's attention.

"Well," sounded Cid's voice suddenly, waking the eavesdropping duo from their musings. "I think we should check the other side of this lake. Make sure we ain't got more of these things around."

"Sure. But you two better help out this time."

Alright, alright, Spiky! Just let me drop this off!" said Barret, his footsteps growing louder as he made his way over to the campsite the entire party had helped set up beneath the trees. Tifa and Aerith then pressed themselves to the forest floor, hoping to avoid being caught by the one armed figure. After a rustle of cloth and nearly a minute of silence, the burly form of Barret Wallace exited the tent. He then made his way back to where the two other men awaited his return, grumbling all the while about how the campsite was seemingly deserted.

As soon as the sound of booted steps left their ears, the girls shot up from the underbrush. "Think we'll get caught?" asked Tifa, her carmine eyes wary as she searched her surroundings for any sign of a sudden arrival. "Red and Yuffie are off looking for firewood."

Aerith did the same, her head swivelling from one side of the camp to the other. "We'll be fine. Cait is with them and Vincent is being Vincent. Who knows where he goes? Either way, they won't be back for a while," stated the Cetra with a mischievous smile.

Taking a step out from behind the bushes, the dark haired fighter stealthily made her way over the tent where the men slept. "Good. And in the meantime…" trailed Tifa. "We'll be taking something from the guys."

"We're just gonna throw it away," mumbled Aerith as she and her friend crept towards their goal. "Just that."

"Right," murmured the martial artist at the other woman's claim. "That's all we're gonna do."

Slipping into the cloth dwelling, the women easily found the belongings of their male counterparts and began sifting. "Cid's wrenches, Barret's cleaning tools for his arm," rattled Tifa as she gently set aside the aforementioned items. "Still no sign of that magazine."

"Nuh-uh," disagreed the girl in pink, holding up the offending piece of media. "Barret left it in Cloud's pack."

The gloved pugilist scrunched her face in distaste. "He really must have liked what he saw then."

"If it's like that," began Aerith timidly as she set the magazine on the floor. "Then maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a peek?"

Tifa couldn't help but feel that what she and Aerith were doing was wrong. Sneaking into tents? Going through someone else's things? Looking at lewd pictures? All a far cry from the prim and proper lady she had been raised as. But then she saw the impish grin that had formed on her best friend's face. Despite appearances, the ribbon haired woman was the troublemaker between the two of them. And that quirk to her lips spelled trouble as a single question lingered in the air: Don't you wanna see inside?

Tifa Lockhart, innocent and pure, nodded her head then. Mustering her courage, she flipped open the pages herself. What she and Aerith found within confused and mortified them both.

Outside, the three men had returned from their jaunt across the lake. "Well, looks like we're safe an' sound here," said Cid with a groan as he stretched his back.

Barret followed suit, rolling his shoulders to relieve them of tension. "Yup. I'll get started on lunch then. Lotsa pots and pans to get out. Wanna help out, new guy?"

"Sure, big man. How about you, blondie? Fixin' fer' some grub, too?"

"Not hungry," came Cloud's curt reply. "I'll get some rest."

"Suit yourself, Spiky," said Barret as he and the spearman set about their new task. "Others ain't back yet with the firewood. Let's see if we can't find our own."

Now free to do as he pleased, the swordsman made his way over to the men's tent. Pulling back the curtains, he found his childhood friend and a flower selling Cetra crouched on the ground with their backs turned.

"I can't believe this," murmured an aghast Tifa."Are all SOLDIER's like this?"

"I don't think so," whispered Aerith, both still oblivious to his presence. "I mean, I know one who definitely wasn't."

"Guys," spoke a surprised Cloud. "What are you two doing here?"

Both women immediately shot up and shyly turned his way. They had been looking at something. He just didn't know what it was. "Oh, just fixing your bags. They looked messy," lied the florist. "Right, Tifa?"

"Yeah," spat out the barkeep. "That's all."

He narrowed his eyes, curious as to why they would attempt to feed him such an obvious deception. With a shrug, he let it go then, knowing he could ask them more later. "Thanks then. Do you mind leaving though? I wanted to rest."

Tifa stood first, her quick hands easily handing the previous subject of her attention to Aerith. Her partner in crime deftly received it, tucking it behind her back to be hidden by her braid and jacket. "We'll get out of your way then," replied the martial maiden with a kind smile. "We're done here anyway."

Cloud held the tent entrance open, allowing his raven haired friend to exit. "Bye, Cloud," she whispered demurely. Despite the harmless nature of her words, her voice had emerged husky as red brown eyes had gazed up at him from beneath long lashes.

"Uh, b-bye, Tifa," he stammered. That had been new.

"My turn then," came a flirty voice as Aerith followed Tifa. "Such a gentleman, holding a door open for two ladies. Maybe you'll have one on your arm someday."

"M-maybe, Aerith," managed the uniformed warrior. The duo had always managed to keep him on his toes, switching between friendly and teasing with a speed that left him dizzy. As Aerith turned, Cloud moved to give her an affable pat on the shoulder. At his touch, the Ancient jumped and yelped, immediately dropping her hidden cargo. As the magazine met the forest floor, their friends rushed over to see what had been the source of such a sound.

"Are you hurt, Aerith?" inquired Red XIII, having recently arrived with Yuffie and Cait Sith. "If so, we can-"

"Oh, I'm fine, Red!" said Aerith, shuffling her feet as she attempted to inch her stolen treasure over to the tent she shared with Tifa and Yuffie. "Just a little stumble."

"But it seems like you dropped something," chimed in Cait Sith, pointing at the fallen object with a slender arm. "Is that a magazine?"

"Is this what you and Tifa were looking at?" asked Cloud, picking up what the girls had obviously purloined. "Don't know why you'd want to."

"And why is that, missy?' intoned a certain pilot's voice mockingly.

Mouth agape, the green eyed woman could offer no response. Thankfully, Tifa swept in to save her. "We just got curious," offered knuckle wearing lady sheepishly as she attempted to pull her ribbon wearing compatriot from trouble.

Aerith followed along, letting herself be ushered into the privacy of the female dwelling. As they entered the tent, they were met by a smirking Yuffie. "So, what'd you two get into?" asked the kunoichi smugly.

"Nothing," responded Tifa quietly as an embarrassed Aerith held her face in her hands.

The ninja's smirk simply widened. "Sure. Not like you went through the stuff of the guy you liked. Especially since you've known him since you were kids."

The lady of combat then imitated the dress clad mage, her face now hidden by her arms as well in a show of shame.

Meanwhile, Cloud was still confused as he stood dumbly with the other men. "I thought girls didn't like this stuff."

"These ones don't, Spiky," confirmed a larger vest clad form. Barret then looked over at Cid, knowing grins formed on both their faces. "They like somethin' else."

"Like what?"

"Heck, I dunno," replied the airman sarcastically as he turned to face Cait Sith, Vincent and Red XIII. "What do you all think women like?"

The cat and Mog simply walked away, obviously unwilling to answer. Their tailed friend gave a quirk of his lips, having come to the same conclusion as Barret and Cid. Red XIII then walked off as well, joined by the would-be spaceman and gun armed insurgent.

"Vincent, do you know?"

"No," came the brooding marksman's even tone, his calm gaze focused on the younger man. "I don't."

With that, the cape wearing gunman vanished in a whirl of crimson and black, leaving the bladesman all by himself. Their responses had only left him more confused as he eyed the cause of Aerith and Tifa's unusual behavior in his grip. Utterly dumbfounded, the Mako enhanced man simply shrugged his shoulders before tossing the motorcycle magazine back into the tent.

It was not until years later that Cloud Strife would understand two things. The first was the love Barret and Cid had for motorbikes and all motor vehicles. With every purr of Fenrir's engine and every gust of wind in his face, the ever calm and collected warrior felt adrenaline pump through his veins. Truly, he had acquired the "need for speed" as the spear wielder had put it once Cid had discovered the blonde's fine ride.

The second was women as he and the lovely Tifa Lockhart had found their way to one another after the curing of Geotisgma. He realized that he would never fully understand the fairer sex but he was no longer the dense young boy he had been. For the most part, Cloud now knew when she was happy, a wonderful smile that lit up her perfect visage. He knew when she was sad, eyes downcast and her countenance darkened. The newly romanced man had also recently understood what his lover was like when angered. Not the simple kind of anger that would vanish after apologies and reparations. This was utter displeasure. Fire and fury. The sword master had realized this after a conversation with the spirit of Zack Fair.

"What does she make you feel when she looks at you and she's pissed?"

"Tifa looks at me like I'm trash," admitted the now black clad courier, his old SOLDIER garb discarded in favor of an even darker look.

"Oh, yeah, that's the look, bud. Same thing I said to myself about what Aerith looks like when she gets mad at me. Whatever it takes, make sure it never happens too much."

"Can I make it go away?"

Zack laughed before taking in a shaky, almost scared breath. "Nope. Only thing you can do is wait it out. Best thing is to be extra nice when your lady gets like that."

It was unfortunate for Cloud that the first point of understanding was the cause for the second. Now home and happy at Seventh Heaven without any danger, the ex-mercenary had found time for hobbies. Like riding Fenrir. Repairing Fenrir. Upgrading Fenrir. Giving Fenrir a new coat of paint. And most importantly, having his beautiful girlfriend get mad at him for spending too much time with Fenrir. As per Zack's advice, the blue eyed SOLDIER had spent the entire day after that helping Tifa after deciding to cancel his deliveries. After all, she had been right to be angry. Even more, he absolutely enjoyed every moment with her. From rising early to help manage the bar to a trip to the market and a leisurely stroll through Edge, Cloud could not have been happier with the current state of their relationship. They fit perfectly together as a couple and as parents to Denzel and Marlene.

But as he lay in bed that night, the blade wielder couldn't help but imagine shining gold and black metal, a flawless mechanical purr and a supple leather seat. As a certain fetching fighter lay slumbering, a spiky haired warrior left her there after an affectionate squeeze of her hand. Marching downstairs, he tied on his boots and crept into the garage, leaving the lights off. "Just a little check," thought Cloud. "Need to make sure Fenrir's working for deliveries."

Examining the bike with a brush of his hand, the rider felt tempted by the closeness of his metal steed. "I can't. Tifa'll get even angrier," he whispered, almost speaking to the beast of a machine before him. "This is wrong."

It was then that his hand brushed against Fenrir's seat, feeling soft and smooth leather against his finger tips. "Fine," Cloud conceded as he slipped on his gloves. "Just this once."

It felt so right.

Snatching the keys from inside the bar, the fair haired man then rolled his guilty pleasure out of his house and onto the early morning street. He then wheeled it around the block, finally placing the keys in the ignition and breaking the quiet with a turn as Fenrir roared to life. "Need to make this quick."

Finding his seat on his prized mode of transport, Cloud sped through a sleepy Edge, weaving his way with ease through the empty streets. Soon, he had left the concrete and glass far behind him for the endless grasslands of a wild Gaia. Pushing Fenrir even faster, the lone man felt a familiar rush as the sound of the engine drowned out all else. Every motion flowed into the next as he zigzagged between rocks, hopped ravines and flipped through the air after a boost from steeper inclines on the plains. Enjoying himself so much, the lover of all things Fenrir almost failed to notice the rising sun. "Time to go back," murmured Cloud as he saw the first rays of light peak over the horizon.

Gunning Fenrir back into the bustling embrace of Edge with a wheelie, his shadowy form was the first sight that greeted a number of the city's population as he raced to Seventh Heaven. Arriving to find the bar to be unlit outside and inside, he removed the keys from his motorbike's ignition and quietly moved it into its place in his home. As he did so, Cloud felt one thing: guilt. He had betrayed Tifa's trust and had done so after a perfect day together away from their usually busy lives. Ashamed, the remorseful boyfriend and foster father of two resolved to do the right thing. He would stride up those steps, straight into their room and apologize to his love after telling her the truth about what he had done. Then maybe forgiveness would come. Letting out a breath to calm himself, the SOLDIER readied himself to reveal his mistakes.

That was until the lights in the garage came on and he heard his name.

"Cloud Strife."

Then, he felt like a criminal. A heinous one. One who now turned to face a breathtaking but obviously livid woman who served as his judge, jury and executioner. Flowing dark strands slightly mussed but already wearing her black vest and shorts, Tifa Lockhart glared down at her betrayer of a boyfriend from atop the steps leading into the garage. Her positively striking and handsome betrayer but her betrayer nonetheless. "Really? After yesterday?"

"Uh…" trailed the wide eyed and speechless fool standing before her.

Arms crossed and with one foot impatiently tapping, the miffed bruiser's eyes had narrowed while her normally composed features had given way to a look of mixed anger and disappointment. Cloud had rarely seen Tifa truly enraged, her nature typically understanding and reserved. But why did the bike irk her so? The man in black knew she disliked the amount of time he spent with Fenrir but this went beyond simple aversion. At that very moment, he remembered a certain incident around three years ago involving the woman before him, a vivacious flower girl and a magazine filled with motorcycles. Now it all made sense. "Are you jealous of Fenrir?"

"N-no," came her suddenly bashful response.

"Back when we were chasing Sephiroth…" started Cloud with a playful grin. "You and Aerith thought I was looking at girls in that magazine, didn't you?"

"We weren't,"denied Tifa. "We wanted to throw it away. It was gross."

"Hey, you know I'd never look at anyone else."

Now she had been struck dumb, the princely swordfighter's admission having left her with reddened cheeks and a seemingly lost tongue.

"Not like I'd want to anyway," continued Cloud, somehow having found his SOLDIER charm. Now he met her with the cocky smirk that had won her heart and had always managed to make her weak in the knees. Why was she mad at her own personal and absolutely dashing hero again?

"I'm sorry I took the bike out. I promise I won't do it again."

That was why she was mad.

"Then go upstairs," commanded Tifa with a tone that brooked no argument. "We're going to talk about that bike. And why you're going to cancel all your deliveries this week to help me with the bar."

Her beloved sighed, knowing that she wasn't going to let him off the hook. Still, the quirk of his lips remained, finding her envy of Fenrir absolutely adorable. "Fine," he accepted, heading past her into Seventh Heaven and up the stairs.

As Cloud vanished from view, Tifa looked back into the garage, her cheeks puffed out as she scowled at the motorized boyfriend stealer sitting in her home. Flipping the lights off before giving Fenrir one final nasty look, she found her way behind the counter. There, the bartender noticed the suddenly wilted flowers sitting in the vase near her, all of which had recently been picked from her friend's chapel. "He's an idiot," called the martial artist.

"All guys are," responded the specter of Aerith Gainsborough, who had appeared behind Tifa with her lips curled into a pout. "I can't believe he only figured out why we went through the tent three years after it happened."

"Is Zack like that?"

"He wouldn't shut up about that dumb sword of his after Cloud moved it next to the flowers. Excuse me, I'm the one that saved the planet! Your sword isn't that cool," complained the lady in a dress.

"And Cloud did that stupid smirk of his too!" hissed the darkly dressed barmaid despite the scarlet hue of her features.

The Ancient laughed. "But I thought you liked his smirk?"

"It's stupid when I'm mad. Besides, what about your thing for Zack's hair?" spat Tifa.

"Hey," chided Aerith. "I told you that in confidence. And would you keep it down? They might hear us."

"They?"

Above them, a similar conversation was occurring. "You should've heard Aerith when I was talking about you moving the sword into the church. She was happy for a bit but after a while she got pissed off whenever I opened my mouth about it," revealed Zack Fair, sitting opposite Cloud on the bed the blonde shared with Tifa.

"Are girls normally like that?"

"Seems like it," admitted the 1st Class SOLDIER. "It's like they just don't get…"

"The, uh, "bond between man and machine?""

"Exactly!" exclaimed Zack.

"Well, Tifa's mad now. Really mad. Jealous too. Still she's cute when she's like that," expressed Cloud with a half smile.

"Aerith too," agreed his taller friend. "All pouty and stuff. Even when she gives out punishments. So what're you in for, Cloud?"

The blonde smirked. "Left my girlfriend in bed. I went for a morning ride on my bike. She found out. Made me cancel my deliveries for the week to help at her bar."

"Women, eh? If you're a guy, they're one of life's great mysteries."

With a low chuckle, Cloud simply nodded.

As a guy, I can sympathize. Well, thank you for the read and please don't hesitate to leave a review! =) As a matter of fact, they're encouraged.


	2. Truck

Shinra had cornered them.

"What now?" growled Barret, his eyes trained on the encroaching corporate militia. "We ain't got nowhere to go!"

They had infiltrated home of the most powerful force in the world. Rescued their ally. Yet it had all been for naught. AVALANCHE was now trapped.

"I've got an idea," replied a blonde sellsword as he turned and sprinted off into recesses of the Shinra lobby. Unsurprisingly, he was followed by a dark haired brawler, her athletic form trailing closely behind him.

But what could those two find to save them? "We need a miracle," mused the gun armed man as he crouched by the door. "Or a really big truck to get us outta here."

"Guys!" called Tifa. "We've found a way out!"

At that, Barret and the rest of their party ran to meet her. To his surprise and elation, the prayer's of AVALANCHE's leader had been answered. Before him sat a truck. A really big one. Large enough for the two women to sit at the front. Large enough for him and their new fiery friend in the back. But as he laid eyes on the machine, Barret knew it was different from any other hunk of metal on wheels. To him, this machine was everything he was: powerful, majestic and a titan. After all, how could he not be after those workouts when no one was looking? His muscles were not simply from his years as a miner in Corel alone. No, they were also the result of hours of intense training to tune his colossal figure to perfection. Barret Wallace needed muscle. Not the slim but toned physiques that Cloud and Biggs cut. He needed the true peak performance afforded only by having his pecs and abs appear as if they could deflect bullets. As a matter of fact, they probably could. And as a matter of fact, this beauty of engineering probably could too.

Which was why the absolutely shredded gunner couldn't help but scream internally when it was Tifa who slid behind the driver's seat and he was forced to the back. As a red furred form joined him and they burst through the windows onto the highway, Barret's envy of Tifa only increased as she steered the truck fast turns and a hail of gunfire. That was not to say he wasn't enjoying himself either.

"Aw, yeah, roared Barret, standing tall as his arm spat hot lead at the incoming Shinra security force. "Eat that, suckas!"

"My friend," grunted the four legged figure known as Red XIII. "Are you sure it is wise to remain unseated?"

"Wise?" Who gives a damn about "wise"?" growled the gun armed rebel, high on the wind in his face and the thrill of the chase. "I'm takin' these Shinra fools out!"

The hunt continued as Barret drowned their pursuers in a storm of bullets. Beside them, Cloud cut through Shinra's lackeys, his Buster Sword unmatched by anything the megacorporation had thrown at them.

So far.

As they reached the end of the road, they saw it then: a hulking robotic figure. When it rolled to a stop before them, the members of AVALANCHE met it. As Barret reloaded, he took one final look at the motorized beast that had carried them so far and made one promise. "I'll have one of my own one day," muttered the one armed rebel. "I'll find one."

Three years later, Barret did. Having helped save the Planet twice over with the force of his gun arm, he decided to help save his home in a less violent manner. With Mako energy no longer in use, Gaia's inhabitants needed a new energy source. One that would not sap the world of its life. With help from Cid, Barret had found one: oil, a dark liquid hailing from a former monster den. With the help of the pilot, oil had become the new source of fuel for the world and a new enterprise. And like every new enterprise, it needed managing. It just so happened that Barret himself was the perfect man for the job. From the mining to the packaging and even the shipping of the stuff, AVALANCHE's founder turned businessman barely had a moment to himself. And on the rare occasion his schedule cleared?

His new venture had given him an answer to that question in the form of the World Regenesis Organization. With Corel as the WRO's oil supplier and with him as the head of the town's new business, Reeve had decided to give his old friend a gift for his aid. "I can't thank you enough but I hope this covers it," spoke the WRO's Commissioner as he presented his gift to Barret: a truck.

The kind of truck that almost made Barret want to weep at its majesty. But he chose not to. After all, the tears would have stopped him from appreciating the beautiful beast before him. He loved his gift and it showed. As soon as Reeve left, the mountain of a man climbed into his new mount's cab and sped off into the grasslands of Corel. In that moment, Barret Wallace made a life-changing decision: this machine was his newest baby. And that was its new name: Baby.

Some might have thought the truck's new epithet lame or uncreative. But would any of Corel's inhabitants say it to the face of a very physically imposing man with a machine gun for an arm? No. After all, they saw how happy it made Barret. Baby was like the gunner's own child and he spoiled it like one. From paint jobs to engine tunings and new tires, there was no way anyone could pull the big man anyway from Baby. Except for his actual baby.

"Daddy!" cried Marlene, leaping into her father's arms outside the entrance to the newly rebuilt Corel. "I missed you!"

"Oh, I missed you too, sweetie!" said her parent as he set her atop his shoulder as two darkly dressed figures approached. "How've you been? You been a good little lady for Cloud and Tifa?"

"She always is," chimed the foster mother in question, her voice always kind. "Right, Cloud?"

"Always," agreed the young woman's second father with a smirk. "It's why we got that new truck. Because she wanted it."

Immediately, Marlene perked up, pointing to the turquoise blue vehicle sitting behind the young pair. "It's so pretty, Cloud!"

"It is. Wasn't cheap either. Good thing it was second hand. Look familiar, Barret?"

Recognition flashed across the visage of Corel's resident oil man. "It does. Ain't that the truck we stole from Shinra?"

"Same model. I can't believe we found it," revealed Tifa with a laugh.

Immediately, Barret smirked. "Well, I gotta show you something. I got my own truck now too! Care to see? I could serve up some lunch too."

"Sure. Is this Baby?" Cloud asked as they began the trek to the older man's home.

"Yeah, she is, Spiky. Added some new stuff. Made her look real spiffy!"

"Ooh, I wanna see," called his daughter, her face alight with joy in the hopes of seeing her father's new personal mode of transport. "I'll bet it looks-

"We'll eat first, Marlene," interrupted the raven haired brawler sternly but gently.

"Oh, okay," conceded the girl with a pout as they finally approached Barret's abode. Once they entered, the four finished a quick meal and stepped into the garage to behold Reeve's gift. Now larger. Stronger. Faster. And most of all?

"Check out her leather seats, Spiky!"

"Heh, she looks good," admitted the bladesman. "Really. But Tifa and I should go. Wouldn't wanna interrupt your weekend with Marlene."

"Yup," agreed the fighter with a smirk. "We'll leave you two here. Mind helping me with the dishes, Cloud?"

A small but knowing smile made its way onto the blonde's face. "Not at all," replied Cloud as he and Tifa rushed into the house, shutting the door to the garage behind them rather roughly.

"Hm, that's new," murmured Barret, his eyebrows creased in confusion.

Marlene turned to him, her expression perplexed. "What is, Daddy?"

"Those two. I mean, I know they, uh, like each other but they ain't…"

"Boyfriend and…" started his child slowly. "Girlfriend?"

"Well, yeah!" exclaimed the dark skinned man, crouching to meet her eyes. "Right?"

"I thought they were! Tifa was really mad at Cloud last week!" whispered the girl adorably as if the couple might hear them. "They shut the door to their room! But Denzel and I heard them. She called Cloud a dummy boyfriend!"

Everything made sense to Barret. The younger man was trying to please . "Is that why Cloud got the truck?"

"Yup!"

Guffawing and wheezing, the large gunner quickly made his way into the house with Marlene on his shoulder. "Well, well, I'm glad to see you two finally stopped prancing around each other! Here I was thinkin' Yuffie and I'd have to- Marlene!" yelled the poor father, shielding his child's pure eyes from the sight of a certain brunette and blonde sharing a very loving moment.

"This is..." paused Barret, his fury barely contained. "The second time I've caught you two!"

The lovers pulled away from one another. "We're so sorry!" apologized a blushing Tifa.

"On your way. Now," commanded the one armed figure. "I need time with Marlene. You two obviously need time together."

"Ooh, Daddy, were they kissing?" inquired the not so innocent little lady perched atop his shoulder.

"Marlene, keep your eyes closed! Is this why you two dropped her off with me? Where's Denzel?"

"Sorry," offered an embarrassed Cloud. "He's with Elmyra in Kalm."

"Well, good. At least you handled that. And you both got clothes on this time! Now get a move on before you mess with my little girl's head even more! Get it outta your system already!"

"Daddy, what were they doing the first time?"

"Uh..." trailed Barret, eyes wide as he was caught unprepared for such an inquiry. "They were swimming."

"Oh, I wanna swim!" chirped Marlene.

"No!" exclaimed her young mother. "It was a deep lake!"

"Cold, too," added her other father, shamefully rubbing the back of his neck. "Not good for kids. I think we'll get going now."

"Okay, then. Bye, Cloud! Bye, Tifa! Daddy, can I open my eyes now?"

"Go ahead," said Barret as he set Marlene on the floor beside him, moving to usher the couple out the door. Settling for quick kisses on Marlene's rosy cheeks, Cloud and Tifa swiftly made their exit. "And save it until you get to some hotel or whatever! You know where they're goin', sweetie?"

She nodded up at him as the two vanished from sight. "Gold Saucer! They told me and Denzel!"

"Figures. Well, just us now. Wanna take Baby for a ride?"

She nodded again, her smiling face glowing with excitement. Without a word, she made her intentions clear. Taking her by the hand, Barret led her into the garage and helped her into the cab of his truck. Marlene eagerly settled in, her slippered feet brushing up against the leather. "Oh, watch out. Don't put your feet on the seats. They might get dirty," warned Barret as he made his way in from the other cab door.

"Sorry, daddy."

"That's fine, Marlene. Don't forget your seatbelt now," he reminded even as she locked the strap around her waist.

"Daddy," she groaned, disliking his nagging.

"Sorry, sorry. Just wanna make sure you're safe."

Always understanding, Marlene simply sighed as Baby came alive and they rolled out of the garage. From there, a companionable silence took over as the cement and grime of Corel was replaced by rolling grasslands. Happily behind the wheel of his rig, Barret hummed to the music, having turned on the radio to fill the quiet as his lovely daughter cooed in wonder at the beautiful picturesque countryside. "Daddy, can I change the song?" asked Marlene, reaching for the knobs on the machine.

"Oh, not yet, sweetie," he protested. "It's a good song. And Baby's radio is delicate. You gotta be nice and careful. I'll teach you about it sometime. For now, don't lay a finger on her."

The young girl by his side pulled away, incensed by another one of his rules. "Hmph!"

"Come on now, Marlene. Don't be like that."

His daughter grunted again, her foul mood making her dismissive. Hoping to brighten the young lady's attitude, Barret immediately pulled to a stop, noting the darkening sky and a nearby clearing. "Why don't we grab some fresh air? It'll be night out in a bit, y'know? Stars'll be real pretty. What do you say?"

She nodded, remaining silent despite her continued dourness. Holding his hand out for her, Barret's face fell ever so slightly when Marlene refused to press her hand into his. Instead, he could only watch her tinier form scurry out of her side of the cab and settle into the grass. With a sigh, Corel's leader joined her, stretching out on his back amidst the sea of green. But even as the orange rays of the setting sun gave way to the twinkle of starlight, Barret felt no urge to gaze upon them. Instead, his eyes fell to the small figure beside him. "So," he started. "H-how're things in Edge?"

"Fine," she murmured, laying on her side as she refused to face her father. "It's all fine."

"Heh, thats, uh," paused the gun armed ex-rebel, offering his daughter a nervous smile that went unseen. "Uh, that's great, Marlene. I'm real glad."

No cherubic smile greeted his own. Marlene's sorrows were plain to see. Quiet sobs wracked her, the skirt of her dress ruffling with every quiver of her shoulders. His daughter was crying. And when she cried, so did he. With shivering hands and watery eyes, Barret reached out for her. "What's wrong? Marlene, what's wrong?"

Wiping her eyes, she offered no response. Only another question. "Daddy, you love me, right?" asked the sobbing young little lady.

His heart broke. She doubted him now. What had he done? "Of course I do, Marlene," Barret whispered, his response almost a plea for her trust. "More than anything."

"Even Baby?"

"Definitely," promised her father as he pulled her into his lap, her baby brown orbs finally locked with his. "You're my little girl, Marlene. 'Course I love you more than Baby. Why'd you think that? Was it all the stuff I told you to do when we were driving around?"

A nod from her.

"Well, I'm sorry. It's just that your Daddy's real happy to have his own truck. Still, that don't mean Baby's number one to me. It's still you, sweetie."

Hearing her father's promise, Marlene smiled then, giddy even with tears in her eyes. "Thanks, Daddy. Can I tell you something else?"

"Of course." He always listened to her. Always had and always would.

"I miss you. A whole lot," admitted his child as she snuggled into his arms. "I really like Edge. Cloud and Tifa are super nice. Denzel too. But I get sad when I don't see you."

"I miss you too. But you know what I'm doin," stated Barret with a click of his tongue. "This ain't no place for little girls. I can't have you 'round all the time. No schools. Not many kids either. Corel definitely ain't the place for you to grow up in."

As soon as he said those words, Marlene's hands shot into her dress pocket. She produced a neatly folded piece of paper, her hands fumbling as she slipped it into her father's palm. "What's this?" he asked, unfolding it to read the neat print scrawled across its surface.

Before he could even finish reading through her surprise, the little lady in his lap began her explanation. "It's a letter, Daddy. From my teacher. She says we get two vacations: one at the end of this year and one more during summer."

Instantly, everything made sense for him. "And do you wanna spend your vacation time with your ol' Dad?"

Marlene smiled and nodded, brown hair bobbing as she did so. With her angelic face beaming at him, Barret could not resist. "Well, it's just for a while," said the insurgent turned oil miner with a fatherly quirk to his lips. "'Sides I think it'd be good for you to get to know Corel a little better. It's where your dad grew up anyway."

"Yes!" cried Marlene, her arms trying to encircle her father's larger form. "Thank you, Daddy! I love you!"

"Aw, I love you too, Marlene." And truly, Barret Wallace did. With every fiber of his being. Locking his child in a hug, he finally let his gaze turn upwards. Far above them, the stars twinkled, their never ending light dancing amidst the darkness of space. "They're beautiful."

"They're pretty," affirmed the young woman, her eyes having been drawn upwards just like her father. "I like them."

"So do I. But it's late. We'd better head back. Get some sleep, y'know? And so you can tell those two over in Edge about what you told me," reminded Barret with a laugh as he stood.

"Okay, daddy." Marlene rose to her feet as well, her hand in his as they walked over to Baby. As they climbed into their seats once more, Barret hesitated to remind her of his rules, fearing that reciting them would only displease her. But this little girl was smart, a fact that her father was reminded of as she climbed into her place of rest on the way back to Corel.

"No feet on the seats," said Marlene, settling easily into Barret's brand new leather seats, leaving them spotless.

"Mm-hm," came her parent's grunt. "And?"

"No food either. But that's okay. We're having dinner at home."

"I know. Anything else, sweetie?"

"Oh, yeah! Seatbelts!" And so she strapped herself in, the leather strip keeping her safe and sound on the bumpy dirt path back into town. "And I can't touch the radio, right, Daddy?"

With a thoughtful hand on his chin, Barret considered the question. "Hmm…" he trailed despite the smirk on his face, his decision obvious. "You know what? Go ahead, Marlene. You're a big girl now."

Upon hearing those words, his little lady leaned forward, pushing against the seatbelt. Thankfully, her arms were just long enough to reach the knobs on Baby's radio. Grunting, she turned them, cycling through warbling static and snippets of music. Eventually, she settled on a simple pop tune, leaning back into her seat as she began humming along to the lyrics.

"Y'know you could've unstrapped yourself, right?"

"I know, Daddy. But I'm a big girl now and big girls have big arms. I just wanted to show you," remarked Marlene with pride.

"Ah, that you are," admitted Barret Wallace, smiling proudly at the young woman by his side. "Ready to go home?"

Marlene's response was simple. Uncomplicated. A restatement of things already known.

"Yup!"

And so parent and child went side by side, together at last at the end of a long and winding road home.

PART 2! YEAH! Been like two months since I updated this work. Apologies for the lateness. Had a lot of stuff to do. I had a hard time wording the ending right. Then I listened to "Forever Young" by Rod Stewart and it all clicked. Good song. But that aside, if you enjoyed this chapter, please go ahead and leave a review. Those are always appreciated! =)


	3. Guns

If one was to describe Vincent Valentine, the word austerity would have been an understatement. Garbed only in tattered leathers with a grimy crimson cloak and headband, he needed only the barest of necessities to survive. Even in his choice of weapon: a simple pistol. Far below the armaments of even a regular Shinra footsoldier, it was a choice that confounded most. Even his newest companions seemed vexed. “Sure you ain’t gonna pick something bigger?” asked the hulking form by his side, the man’s gun arm scanning the cave walls as they marched on into the belly of Mount Nibel. 

“No.”

“Not even looking for somethin’ with a bit more “oomph”?” Their group had decided to take a rest, slouching against smooth stone in lieu of a more comfortable setting around a campfire. The choice had been made rather easily as the party hoped to stave off the unwanted attention an open flame would have brought. 

“No,” grunted Vincent, his voice slightly irritated. Since his awakening, it had been one unnecessary question after the other. They were probing him, seeking out any potential for betrayal. The gunman understood that. In his opinion, it was a wise choice. His only wish was that any inquiring minds be the less talkative ones as well. 

That was not to be as a hyperactive shuriken wielder’s voice chimed in. “Oh, come on, Barret. Leave him alone! He flies! If he wants to stick with a pea shooter, let him. On that note though, what are you looking for, tall guy?”

Ever since he had arisen from his three decade slumber, the former Turk had been bombarded by a cacophony of noise. And most of it seemed to come from the short ninja calling herself Yuffie. “Like, Cloud and Tifa have Nibelheim. Barret over here wants to protect his kid. And,” paused the young woman, catching her breath before continuing on with her rambling. “Red was taken from his tribe by Shinra. And from what I know, Aerith has the entire Planet! So what’s your deal, uh, Vincent, right?”

With a sigh, he responded. “Blessed silence.”

“Eh, not my thing. I’m more of the “fast and loud” type,” said Yuffie.

“Ain’t you ninjas supposed to be silent? Especially in a creepy place like this?” growled Barret, his question posing a warning to the energetic rogue. “Since we got monsters crawling all over this mountain?”

Immediately, Yuffie jolted upwards, suddenly remembering the reminder a certain blonde SOLDIER had given her to remain quiet before he and the other members of their party had left to scout ahead. “Oh, yeah! Guess I’d better zip it then.”

“Finally,” thought the cloaked marksman, relieved that she had finally found a reason not to speak. Unfortunately, any sense of respite he felt was momentary as Yuffie rose and began to stroll off into the darkness 

“Kid, what’re you doin’?” Barret hissed. “I thought we agreed to stay here. Cloud, Tifa, Red and Aerith’d scout ahead while the three of us stayed put. You remember that, right?”

Yuffie smirked playfully in return. “Relax, guy. I won’t wander too far off. Besides, not like Poppa Cloud and Momma Tifa are gonna know about it,” sing-songed the kunoichi, her voice low and sarcastic. “I swear, how do Blondie and Boobs both have sticks up their butts?”

Before the one armed gunner could even protest, the young troublemaker had vanished into the darkness. As Barret cursed to himself, Vincent simply ignored their exchange. Eyes closed, he was simply glad that the motor mouthed lady had come and gone. 

That sense of satisfaction lasted for about a minute as Yuffie came running back, her screams echoing off the smooth stone around them. “Guys, run!” cried the woman as she sprinted at them, Materia and loot cradled in her arms. 

“Heck’d you do, Yuffie?!” yelled Barret, cocking his gun arm. As if to answer him, dozens of green, buglike forms skittered out of the blackness behind the scared ninja. “You messed with some nest of theirs or something didn’t you?”

Still scampering, Yuffie left the older man’s question unanswered as she came to a stop beside Vincent, already firing away at the abominations she had accidentally called forth. With every shot from his pistol, insectoid forms began littering the floor around them. But felling each crawling form required more than one direct hit. A single bullet alone was not enough. Seeing this, the kunoichi dropped her pile of treasure and frantically began sifting through it. Seconds later, she began jumping for joy as she handed the gunslinger a new weapon. “Vincent, use this!”

Holstering his pistol, the tall figure accepted her gift, examining it. Scoped. Long barreled. And somehow, a full magazine. A sniper rifle. “Where’d you get it?”

“D-don’t ask,” stammered his young ally as she tossed her shuriken at the growing wave of their foes. “Just use it.”

Taking her words to heart, Vincent nodded and lined up his first shot, the scope allowing him to better fine tune his aim. And as soon as he pulled the trigger, the crimson clad gunman felt something he thought lost to him: enjoyment. With every bullet from his new rifle, multiple crawling figures were torn to shreds as the newest addition to the party eagerly took to his task. Despite his grimness, the claw wearing man relished the feeling of seeing his targets vanish in a storm of metal as he demonstrated his skill with a gun. From deflecting shots off walls to simply firing without even looking, it became obvious to Yuffie and Barret that their newfound comrade was not to be trifled with. As the last mottled green figure met the stone floor, the monolithic gunner realized he had learned something new about the brooding figure. “Glad you’re on our side.”

Seconds later, four familiar forms came rushing out of the same cave Yuffie had wandered into. “You guys okay?” asked Tifa, always concerned for her friends as she began tending to Barret with Aerith’s help. “What happened?” 

“Ask the kid,” grumbled the injured leader of AVALANCHE, his arm sporting a gash from an insectoid claw. “Told her not to go walkin’ ‘round.” 

Spotting the pile of looted goods by the younger woman’s feet, Aerith laughed. “Yuffie, we told you not to go treasure hunting,” reminded the flower girl seriously despite the twinkle of mirth in her green eyes. After all, the Cetra was a known master of mischief herself. Especially in regards to teasing a certain blue eyed warrior who took himself far too seriously. “See? Barret got hurt. Not gonna apologize?”

“Sorry about that, big guy. You were right. But on the upside,” Yuffie began, suddenly regaining her usual pep. “You guys should’ve seen Vincent. He was going “pew-pew” on all those crawly things! Right, Vince?”

Standing off to the side, the man in question made his way over the rest of the group. “Sure.”

“Oh, come on! You were awesome! The only thing that would’ve made it cooler was some badass one liner from you. Like, “the only thing you bugs are biting”,” paused the shuriken wielder, her voice having become an imitation of Vincent’s rasp. “”Is the bullet”.”

Cloud and Red XIII snorted, finding the kunoichi’s impression of the stoic gunman to be humorous.

Tifa tried to stifle her laughter, hiding her face in her hands.

Aerith didn’t, giggling as she made her way to the ninja’s side with a high five.

Barret just groaned, his patience and his body having been put at risk too many times by the spunky thief’s antics.

“Ah, could be better,” admitted Yuffie. “Just gimme a bit, tall dude. I’ll come up with something you can use. Besides, it seemed like you enjoyed that work out back there.”

Vincent shrugged, always unflappable. His features as calm as ever, the former Turk did not betray the fact that Yuffie had in fact been right. He had enjoyed his “work out”. More than that, he had enjoyed her gift. Gripping it tightly under his cloak, Vincent decided he was keeping the rifle. 

Over the course of their journey, Vincent’s interest in guns would only grow. With every stop in every town, he seemed to care only about the lethal implements his training as a Shinra operative had taught him to use. Between pistols, revolvers, rifles and shotguns, the grim marksman’s knowledge of his tools of the trade only grew. But to him they more than tools. They were remnants of his past life. Of his days as a Turk. Before Meteorfall. Before his long sleep. Before Hojo. 

Years later, armaments of battle were still the lone man’s sole connection to a different time. Even with the Tsviets gone, Vincent refused to believe that the Planet was safe. If there was one lesson he had learned in his long life, it was that danger was always present. So he came prepared.

Cerberus. 

Griffon. 

Hydra.

Death Penalty.

Each was a tool of battle. But for all their power, there were two guns he cherished over all others. Walking over to the small chest he had given to Nanaki for safekeeping, the gunslinger unlatched it and peered inside. “One would think to dispose of them,” came his friend’s voice. “But they are of great value to you.”

“They are, Nanaki.” In the wake of Deepground, Vincent had finally found some measure of redemption. Some measure of forgiveness. Hojo was gone for good. And he was free now. Now he had to piece his life together. To him, these guns were the best place to start. One was a gift from a friend, one that had fought by his side to save their Planet. The other was a symbol of his awakening and the beginning of his redemption. “Thank you for taking care of them. I’ll have Cid take a look. See if he can fix them.”

Red XIII smiled, overjoyed that his comrade had begun to move on from his past. “Of course. I am glad you decided to keep them. Yuffie would be happy to know you did.”

At that, the marksman felt his lips quirk up. Gathering the two beaten guns into a sack, Vincent turned to face the four legged figure. “She would, wouldn’t she?”

The lion-wolf hybrid’s eyes widened momentarily upon seeing the ex-Shinra operative’s smile. “You smile now?” asked Red XIII, a smirk now playing on his animalistic features. “If I ever told Yuffie, she would be happy.”

“Don’t call her, Nanaki.”

“Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Yuffie does tend to “get on your nerves”,” teased Cosmo Canyon’s guardian as Vincent made his way to the door. Quietly exiting the house his friend had inherited from Bugenhagen, the cloaked figure began his trek to Rocket Town in the early morning. Crossing the rolling plains, he arrived hours later, the sun now at its apex. Knocking on the door to the Highwind home, the crimson clad man was warmly welcomed by his old companions as Vincent presented the reason for his visit. 

“Well,” began Cid, eyeing the rusted rifle and pistol on his dining table. “I ain’t much of a gunsmith but I could take a crack at fixin’ these two. I don’t why you’d wanna though…”

“They’re important to me.” With a nonchalant shrug, Vincent made his intentions clear.

“Ah, I see. Though I never pegged you ‘fer the sentimental type,” stated the engineer, a cigar in his mouth as his lovely wife joined them.

“Me neither. But why not? If it’s that important to him, I say we take a look at it.” Shera then adjusted her glasses, favoring Vincent with a kind nod. The gunman returned the gesture, thankful for her support. 

“You got a point there, darlin,” agreed the pilot. “I got some old scrap in the yard out back. Shera and I can take a look. Scrounge up a few parts. If we get lucky, I can get these done by tonight.”

“In the meantime,” said Shera with a smile. “You can take a walk around town. Things are lively this time of year. You could find something to do.”

Vincent nodded as he made his way out the door. “I will. Thanks.”

Exiting the Highwind home, the former Turk found himself already in the middle of Rocket Town. The streets were alive with the sound of music, cheering crowds and warm meals being had. Weaving his way through the deluge of partygoers, Vincent settled into a small table right outside the old inn. All by himself, he was approached by a young man with a server’s apron on. “Order, sir?”

“Your cheapest soup,” rasped the lone, pale figure. “What’s with the town?”

Jotting down Vincent’s order, the waiter replied with a smile. “New Year’s, sir. Late though. Deepground was a thing so we had to cut the party short. Been a few months since then but the way we saw it, now’s as good as a time as any. Anyway, I’ll be back with your soup.”

The claw wearer nodded in response, relaxing in his seat. After a short wait, the boy returned with his soup and left with a pocketful of Gil as Vincent enjoyed his order. Slurping down the warm broth in small spoonfuls, he took in the festive country town celebration around him. Quaint as it may have been to some, to a silent water, it meant his work had meaning. These people were free to live and free to revel because he and his friends had risked their lives once more. The thought brought warmth to the gunslinger, a phantom smile on his face as he understood that he was now like them as well: free. With no more Hojo, Shinra or Deepground, Vincent Valentine allowed himself the simple pleasure of a warm meal all by himself. 

And it would have been a quiet meal too. Had his cloaked, towering form been less recognizable to an energetic, young shinobi who had decided to pay a visit to a gruff pilot and his lovely scientist wife. “Vincent!” called Yuffie as she ran up to him, arms waving excitedly. 

The long haired man simply groaned, coming to terms with the fact that his alone time had been interrupted once again by Yuffie and her infinite supply of energy. “Yuffie,” he drawled as she sat herself atop his table.

“What’re you doing here, tall dude? Been a minute since we hung out!” 

Releasing a breath, Vincent replied. “I like being alone.”

“Really now? ‘Cuz guys that like being alone don’t go around town festivals, y’know?” pointed out the peppy ninja with a grin as she began to pull at his arm. “So come on! Get off your sorry butt! Have some fun!”

Knowing that refusal would only embolden her, the towering marksman gave in quickly, rising from the table as his companion pulled him into the deluge of celebrants. As usual, Yuffie’s exuberance was practically endless, drowning all meaning of time and place. Between a hail of food stalls, carnival games and his friend’s youthful enthusiasm, Vincent’s head was spinning by the time he realized that the sun had finally begun to set. Remembering his personal request, the former Shinra operator quietly pulled out his PHS. Immediately, his crimson eyes were greeted by a text from Cid, the gearhead happily notifying him that the job was done. 

“Yuffie, I need to go to Cid’s,” rasped Vincent, informing the shuriken wielder of his destination as she slurped down a bowl of noodles beside him. “I asked him for a favor. He says he’s finished.”

“Well, alright, let’s go!” cheered Yuffie, quickly finishing off the last of her meal. After returning her bowl to the stall owner and slapping her payment down onto the counter, she and Vincent were off to the Highwind home. Upon their arrival, the duo were greeted eagerly by Cid and Shera, offering the two something to eat. 

The kunoichi waved off the meal, flopping down into a seat at the married couple’s table. “Nope, I’m good, thanks. Already ate. I just wanna kick back with you guys.”

“Well, that’s all fine and dandy. But let’s not forget Vince here,” said Cid as he and Shera favored their darkly dressed friend with a wink. They hadn’t forgotten Vincent’s aversion for Yuffie’s specific brand of invasiveness, no matter how harmless or well-meaning it was. “That stuff you wanted is all set up out back.”

On cue, Yuffie began to stick her nose into her older friend’s business. “Ooh, what is it? Lemme see!” 

“Oh, no,” interrupted Shera, hastily taking control of the situation. “You, Miss Kisaragi, are gonna sit down and have tea with us. We’ve even bought some Wutai flavors just for you.”

“Wait, really? Well, pour me a cup then,” replied Yuffie, her attention drawn away by the bespectacled academic. Never one to waste an opportunity, Vincent quietly made his exit into the backyard of the Highwind home. There he found his two guns stacked neatly atop an old crate, fully repaired and ready to go. Eager to test out his old weapons, his dark crimson orbs were drawn to the wooden fence the couple had recently erected, now lined with old tin cans for a purpose that would never be lost on him. 

The gunman took up his pistol first, twirling it in a show of dexterity to find it perfectly balanced. Cocking it, Vincent proceeded to knock down one target after the next, wasting not a single shot. Even as the sound of gunfire rang out, he was sure the sound of the locals partying would drown out his more combative pursuits.

In fact, he was so sure that Vincent holstered his pistol and hefted the sniper rifle without a second thought. Pulling the scope to his eye, he took aim at the old cans once more and let a feather light twitch of his finger send burning metal through the air to collide with worn tin. The first can fell. Followed by a second and third until the greenery around the fence was littered with flimsy, bullet ridden lumps of metal. The marksman shouldered his rifle, his stony countenance shifted slightly to display the satisfaction that had found him. Turning back to enter the house, he intended to swiftly and covertly thank Cid and Shera for their work.

“Ooh, you kept ‘em!”

Only for Yuffie to live up to her reputation, her nosy personality having led her to the backyard. Groaning softly, Vincent decided to address her. “Where are Cid and Shera?”

And as if they had been summoned, the happily married couple burst into the yard. “She ain’t here? Ah, no…” trailed Cid as Yuffie gave him and his wife a mischievous smirk. While the pilot simply let out a tired breath, Shera couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“You turned your back for one second?” asked Vincent, his head cocked toward the pony tailed scientist. 

“One second,” affirmed the glasses wearing woman. 

At that, the young ninja’s smirk only widened, eternally prideful in her status as a pint sized force of mischief. “So you were all trying to put one over little ol’ me?”

“Sorry, Vince,” apologized Cid as he fixed Yuffie with a glare. “We know you were lookin’ ‘fer some alone time.”

Vincent, ever calm and collected, offered a simple shake of his head in return. “No need. The guns are good. Thank you.”

“Leaving then?” asked Shera.

“Yes. Thanks again.”

“Not even for one cup of tea with me and the Captain?”

The crimson caped man stopped. Turning slowly, he offered a simple reply. One that left Shera and Cid smiling. “Fine,” rasped Vincent with a respectful nod. “One cup.”

Unfortunately for him, it would be a long one cup. Between Cid’s boisterous story telling and Shera’s little additions to her husband’s tales, it began to dawn on the claw wearer that the happily married couple was trying to get him to stay longer. It was a revelation that brought two feelings surging to the forefront of his consciousness. First was that he actually appreciated spending time with his old friends and would have to do it more in the future. Second was that he had to leave soon or else Yuffie’s smug, sidelong grin would last eternally. 

By the time he had finished his tea, the brew within the little porcelain piece of tableware had gone cold. It was a testament to the strength of the teamwork the engineer and his academic wife mustered when they had a common goal. And as he walked out the door of their home, Vincent knew his next taste of that tenacity and their tea would come soon. He also prepared himself for the trek back to Cosmo Canyon. Normally, such a journey wouldn’t require any mental conditioning. But considering his current companion, he would need to steel himself.

“So…” cooed Yuffie, eyeing the pistol attached to his belt and the sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. “You seem attached to those little boomsticks. I wonder who could’ve given ‘em to you. Probably some really good looking and awesome ninja from Wutai, am I right?”

The marksman rolled his eyes as the young trickster continued, keeping step with him on the fields outside Rocket Town. “She probably deserves a thank you, too, y’know? Even though it’s kinda weird that you held on to her present for so long. Girl might think you were sweet on her.”

That insinuation earned her a glare as dark crimson orbs pierced into her from above. But Yuffie had learned to deal with Vincent’s brooding temperament long ago, laughing off his attempts at intimidation. “Just kidding, Vincent, geez,” said the kunoichi with a surprisingly innocent smile. “But it is weird, y’know. I mean that thing’s pretty beat up. Why don’t you just buy a new one?”

“Answer my question first: what were you doing in Rocket Town?” asked the gunman, his face betraying no emotion. 

“Hmm,” paused Yuffie, a finger on her chin as if in thought. “WRO stuff. I gave Cid and Shera some important papers from Reeve.”

Vincent nodded, marching on silently, glad he had deflected the invasive little rogue’s inquiries. Or so he thought. “Now what about my question, tall dude? Why’d you keep the beat up old gun I gave you?”

“They were gifts…” paused Vincent, considering his next words very carefully. “...from a friend.”

And upon hearing his admission, Yuffie attempted to leap up and hug him, only to be met with emptiness as Vincent deftly avoided her smaller form with a well timed step to the side. Considering the gap between his warm words and cold avoidance, she only huffed in annoyance and let slip an annoyed remark. “Geez, guys are weird. You all say one thing and do another.”

Vincent just rolled his eyes, content to let the teenager continue their banter as the odd pair made their way to Cosmo Canyon.

**I have returned. Feel free to review. =) Thanks for reading! HAHAHA**


	4. Ship

"Damn, place is lit up like a damn festival!" growled Cid, charging his way through the fleeing masses. "That cat with a crown better be right! Else I'll rip the stuffin' right outta him!"

As Weapon approached Junon, the remaining members of AVALANCHE put their daring plan into action. While the others fought to rescue Tifa, the pilot had been placed in charge of securing their exit. Of course, his skillset left only one option viable.

Turning his head up, Cid saw it, far above and ahead of him: an airship. Tethered to the ground with cables, he and his companion sucked in sharp breaths. "Let us go!" said Red XIII with a howl. "Our foes are distracted!"

So they did, forging ahead. The pair dodged in and out of alleyways, snaking their way past SHINRA patrols. When stealth failed, the duo dispatched any and all opposition before them, driven by desperation. As Red XIII knocked a weakened 3rd Class SOLDIER down, Cid turned to him.

"That guy definitely ain't no Strife!" he huffed, laying his spear over his shoulder as they set forth once again. They surged upwards, through the spine of Junon's metal skeleton. With every battle, they felt their more and more of their strength whittled away. Yet they continued, bruised and battered, until they finally reached their destination.

Doubled over and breathless, Cid looked up again, immediately knowing that their struggle been worthy. The craft before him was majestic, it's hull shining amid the setting sun and explosions that rocked Junon. In the middle of this warzone, a single and shimmering jewel had presented itself as their salvation.

"What a beauty..." trailed Cid. And more than that, completely unguarded, thanks to Weapon's assault. As he and Red XIII boarded the vessel, they were not met with foes. Instead, a young crew was all that had been left behind. To the airman, it was a crying shame for such fresh faces aboard a fine ship to perish as all life on the Planet ended. After informing them of this simple truth and leveraging the remnants of his popularity as Shinra's ace pilot, Cid and Red XIII had found a vessel and crew for their rescue.

But to the pilot, it was so much more. As the aircraft lurched into the air, Cid took the helm, promising to teach the greenhorn at the wheel more when they were safe. For now, he peered out the viewport, beholding the open sea and city below him. And it was all thanks to this ship, one he had fallen in love with as soon as it had taken to the sky. Once more, he was a captain with a ship. And every ship needed a name.

"Mister Highwind!" called the young pilot he had replaced, clinging to a nearby railing as Cid guided his airship through a hail of artillery to where his friends waited.

Hearing his last name, Cid indulged in a rare moment of vanity. "Never thought of it that way before," he mumbled, a celebratory cigar already in his mouth. "I know what I'm gonna name this thing."

So the vessel was named the Highwind, soaring into the sky as it carried the spearman and his comrades to victory against Sephiroth. Having saved the Planet, their party eventually disbanded. Nevertheless, they all remained in contact as they molded new lives for themselves in the new era they had helped start. For Cid, it meant returning to Rocket Town, fixing the ship and training the crew. With the Highwind and her men settled into the field behind his house, the pilot stepped into his home, surprised that the door had been left ajar.

Creeping quietly in the darkened confines of his own home, Cid called for the one other person who lived there. "Shera? Woman, you here?"

As soon as the words left his lips, the gruff pilot let out a pained yell as something collided with the back of his head.

"Oh, Captain! Sorry! You startled me!" replied Shera, flipping open the lights as she set down her broom. "I must've left the door open!"

"Yeah, I saw," grunted Cid, rubbing the back of his head. "Ain't somethin' you'd normally do."

"I know. I must've fallen asleep while I was cleaning. Thought you'd want the place spotless when you got back."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Wait, what?" Shera's eyes widened.

"What is it?" Cid asked, slightly annoyed.

"You thanked me..." trailed the scientist.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you kept the ol' place nice while I was gone. So, thanks, woman."

"Y-You're welcome, then." As his eyes met hers, Cid found himself unable to turn away. Something in the brown of her eyes drew him in, leaving him feeling guilty for all the ill will he had heaped upon her over the years. "That ain't all though."

Shera looked confused, her head tilting to one side. "Oh, what do you mean?"

"I mean…" Cid coughed, his throat suddenly dry. "I wanna say I'm sorry for bein' a right ass to you all this time. You were right about the launch. The tank. All of it, Shera."

"Captain, you don't have to apologize," replied the glasses wearing woman placatingly. "It was your dream and I-"

"I know damn well it was," cut in Cid, his voice wavering slightly. "But I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't stuck by me. So I guess I'm sayin' thanks again."

"Oh," breathed Shera, genuine shock upon her features. "Y-you're welcome."

And then not a sound was made by either of them, quiet filling the house until Shera laughed. "You said it, Captain."

Cid lit up another cigar. "Said what?"

The lady before him smiled gently. "My name. I can't remember the last time you actually used my name."

"That's another thing I gotta bow and scrape over then," stated Cid, a puff of smoke in the air around him. "I got a proposition for you. It ain't enough to make up for everything but it's a start if you wanna help."

The captain, living up to his title, then told her all about his newest vessel and her crew. But he needed her as well as an adviser and colleague. "You ain't gotta say yes or nothin'. I been keepin' you for too long. Yer' a smart lady. Should be somewhere nicer."

Shera smirked, adjusting her glasses. "You have our airship, Captain. I'm not about to leave it or you high and dry."

Cid gave her a smirk, one that was easily returned. "Our ship."

So it became their ship, an undertaking that would need Cid's skills as a pilot and Shera's meticulous scientific mind. The passage of the months would also signal the passage of the Highwind and her crew from a new vessel and rookie crew into something more. Additionally, with the help of Rocket Town's citizens, Cid and Shera's efforts would reach Reeve Tuesti's ears. As the Commissioner of the recently formed World Regenesis Organization, the ex-Shinra executive called upon the aid of his friends in reconnecting and rebuilding their home. It was one that they were eager to answer, leading to an evening in Rocket Town's inn and tavern.

"Heck, yeah, boys! This time tomorrow, we got ourselves a payin' boss so drink up!" howled Cid to the elation of the young men he had helped train, all present having downed more than a few drinks.

"Thank you, Captain! But something's off, eh?" asked the Highwind's second pilot, no longer a rookie.

"What're you talkin' about, kid?"

"Miss Shera! She's gone, Captain."

And before Cid could reply, Shera's voice interrupted him. "I'm right here," she said, a small smile of satisfaction as they turned to her, mouths agape.

"Oh, lookin' fine, ma'am!" And Shera did, clad in the yellows and browns she always wore. Save for the lab coat, she looked exactly the same except for the light makeup upon her visage and the brown strands that fell freely along her back.

"That you do, miss Shera," agreed a crewman. "If the captain here wasn't already with you I'd-"

"Boy," hissed Cid, managing to tear his eyes away from Shera. "It ain't like that so I suggest you shut yer' mouth 'fore I do it for you."

Before the foul-mouthed pilot could continue, Shera stopped him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Captain, no need. He was just being nice," said the scientist, her lips quirked up into a smile that left Cid feeling things he had never felt before.

With a wink, Shera turned away from them, making her over to the bar as the eyes the crew followed after her. "Cap, are you tellin' me you and miss Shera aren't, y'know, together?"

The man in his question shook his head, blonde brows furrowed as he tried to regain control of himself. "What'd I just say?"

"Hey, hey, we heard you, sir. But, uh, permission to speak?" asked one of the Chocobo caretakers.

"Fine," granted Cid.

"Not bein' with a nice lady like her kinda makes me wonder how you got to be captain."

"She ain't that good lookin' anyway," lied Cid.

"Captain, you were the one starin' at her! More than any of us! And she winked at you! I ain't ever seen her wink at anybody!"

"It's not like Miss Shera at all," added an engineer. "She always seems so…"

"So what?" Cid scowled.

"...proper. She always seems so proper. The lady's obviously goin' for something new tonight."

"You gonna ask her out, Captain?" chimed in another member of the Highwind's crew.

"Guys," sighed the airman. "Y'all know about what happened between me and her, Been years since I actually treated her all right. It ain't nice to ask a lady out when I've been as ass to her for so long."

"Well, it's not like you two have to get hitched or anything," said the young pilot he had trained. "We just wanted you two to have a nice night since you've been taking care of us for a while now."

"Come on, Captain! One drink with her is all we're saying. Be quick about it too because I think someone might be trying to beat you to the punch," pointed out one of the men stationed at a console on the main deck, his eyes directed to the counter.

Cid followed his gaze, his blood boiling at the sight. There was Shera, looking pretty. But next to her stood a man who fancied himself to be far more charming than he really was, judging by how was taking every opportunity to not so subtly flex the bulging muscles beneath his shirt. But Cid was ready for a fight, especially since he knew more mass on a man didn't make him a better brawler. Another blonde, lean yet well-built, had taught him that. "If that kid can swing that sword of his around like it's nobody's business then I can kick this idiot's ass the same way," growled the captain of the Highwind, a cigar in his mouth as his crew cheered him on.

Striding up to Shera and her mountainous suitor, Cid immediately placed himself in between them. "You got a problem with my lady friend here?"

"Captain," bit out Shera, worry in her eyes even as she glared at the man over Cid's shoulder. "I'm fine. I was just heading back to the table."

"Sorry 'bout that, Shera, but it looked like this guy didn't see that," spat Cid. "All muscle and no brain is what I'm guessin'."

"What'd you say, little man?"

"Oh, you may be big but don't think I won't knock you flat on yer' ass."

"Really?" asked the unnamed pick up artist as he motioned other men over. "Because my friends would disagree."

"Heh," scoffed Cid with a whistle, summoning his crew. "You ain't the only one with friends."

And as the men of the Highwind approached, Shera attempted to deescalate the situation, her voice stern. "Captain. Cid. Crew. You guys have had too much to drink, okay? There's no need to throw punches."

"Oh, don't worry, little lady," replied the mountain of muscle that had been hitting on her. "Once I take care of your boyfriend, I'll show you how a real man-"

His speech was cut short by Cid's fist colliding with his nose, sending crimson spurting everywhere. The captain immediately tore his cigarette from his mouth, ripping a scream from the other man's throat as Cid shoved it's burning end into his opponent's chest. The man's friend's shot forward, rushing for Cid as the blonde's crew met them head on. Immediately, fists and feet began flying, followed by bottles and chairs as a brawl broke out. Thankfully, it was confined only to the crewmen and the friend's of the man Cid had left with a nasty burn.

"We got this! You and Miss Shera get outta here, Captain!" yelled the man who managed the Operation Room aboard the ship. "We can handle these guys, no problem!"

With a naughty smile, Cid did just that, taking a mortified Shera by the hand and rushing out the inn's front door. "Captain, what the heck was that?"

"Ain't nothin' but us helpin' you out, Shera," came Cid's response, his laugh soaring through the night sky as he and the bespectacled Shera ran to their backyard. Catching their breaths, the brown haired woman then proceeded to jab him in the shoulder.

"Ow," yelped Cid. "Like I told you, we were just helpin' you out."

"You didn't have to beat someone up," hissed Shera with a roll of her eyes. "Now the crew's in danger."

"Hey, those boys'll be fine," reassured her savior, smelling like alcohol and cigars. "I been through tougher fights with 'em. They can handle a little bar brawl. 'Sides that ain't what's surprisin' me tonight."

"And what, Cid, is surprising you, if I may be so inclined to ask?"

Cid smirked, another cigar already lit up in his hand. "No "Captain" from her. Just Cid. Been a long time since you done that."

Shera gave him a smile then, exhausted as she was. "It just came out."

"Really? Brainy lady like you who'd never let herself forget a thing? That's new. Sure that fella back in the bar didn't leave you a little lovestruck?" teased Cid.

"Good night, Captain," emphasized the brainy lady, turning away and entering their home with a smirk and another roll of her eyes. Cid watched her leave, forgetting the lit roll in his mouth as he was rooted in place by the sight of her.

And when she was finally gone and he was all alone, all Cid did was throw his cigar into the dirt and stomp it out. "Damn it."

Shera was pretty, inside and out. He knew she deserved more than a man who had mistreated and blamed her for years. More than he could offer her.

"But I ain't ever been one to back down."

"Back down from what, Cap?" came the voice of one of his crew, their bruised forms shuffling up to him. Every man had his lips quirked up in victory, a sign that the brawl they had been left with had gone their way. "We took care of those guys. Took care of 'em real good."

"Thanks," replied Cid, his smirk matching theirs. "Seems like I gotta fixin' up my own messes though."

"Oh, don't worry, sir," assured the junior pilot as he and his friends made their way to the newly built homes near the Highwind. "This one was on us. 'Sides, what's a captain without his crew?"

Cid chuckled, stretching as he began to walk over to the backdoor of his home. "You ain't wrong, kid. But this new thing? Y'all have helped me enough. I gotta start an' finish this one on my own."

And Cid did start on his own, striding into the house with his back straight. And in the most dignified manner possible for a half-drunk man, he asked her if she had any plans that weekend.

"No, Captain," came Shera's timid voice. "Why do you ask?"

"Cuz, uh," paused Cid. "I was wonderin'..."

She stepped closer, leaving him at an even greater loss for words. "Argh, damn it," growled Cid, his instinctual response to frustration causing her to recoil. "No, wait! Shera! I'm sorry. I didn't mean 'ta get mad."

Shera breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, I'm glad then. I mean, normally you'd get mad at me. Really mad."

"I ain't gonna do that no more," vowed Cid, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. "I promise. And, well, I wanna apologize too."

"Oh, uh, y-you don't have to, Captain," sputtered the brown haired scientist, a lock of shock on her face. "Are you feeling okay?"

Cid nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Yeah. I feel great. That's the problem. Ain't no more Shinra. Ain't no more Rufus or Sephiroth. Nothin' hangin' over me. That," he emphasized. "That's given me a lot of time to think stuff through. Like the way I been actin'. The way other people have been actin' to."

"What do you mean?" asked Shera, her voice small.

"Shera, why'd you stay? After everythin'. I been far from nice to you for so long. Not once did you ever get mad or stand up fer' yourself. Why?"

The woman before him nodded before gesturing over the table in the center of their home. Cid understood immediately, making his way over to it before seating himself only to be joined by Shera across from him. "Well, since you asked," she began shakily. "I guess it's because I didn't really have anywhere to go. None of us did after Shinra. That rocket was everything to you. To all of us. And when it was gone?"

Cid simply nodded in understanding. "We all lost somethin'."

"We were living in the past," stated Shera, her voice breaking slightly. "We couldn't get the Shinra Number 26 into space and we just…"

"...died inside," finished Cid.

"And I thought that if I stayed, I could make up for what I thought I did wrong. You saved my life, Cid, no matter what anyone says and," trailed the woman before him, removing her glasses wet with her tears. "I thought, I really did, that maybe I was the reason why we failed. And that taking your worst was some sick joke that I deserved to be the punchline to."

"No. No, it wasn't, Shera," admitted Cid. "You didn't deserve a single bit of what I been doin' to you. Sure, I ain't ever hit you or nothin' but the yellin'? The insults? How long'd I go without callin' you by your name?"

"I know it was wrong, Cid. I know. But between you tying yourself to that hunk of metal and the rocket crew trying to eke out a living as average people in some average town, I felt like this entire place was meant to be where we were going to die. I thought this was it for all of us," choked Shera, a sad smile on her face as the dim lights of the township through the window illuminated the tracks of her tears that now mirrored Cid's own. "But then we met them, right? Cloud. Tifa. Aerith. Barret."

Cid chuckled at the memory of his newfound friends. "Yuffie. Nanaki. Vincent. Reeve and that cat of his."

Shera nodded with a laugh, wiping her tears. "I wanted to live, Cid. They reminded me of how we were. They had a cause and they gave it to us. You left to join them and I was so glad. It felt like the old you. And when I gave them the Bronco? For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't just waiting to die."

The gruff airman nodded silently, his eyes on the floor. And then silence came, both lost in the memories of years gone by where they and so many others had lived resigned to an empty fate. But that was all over now. "I think it's time to start over,' announced Cid, his voice almost a whisper.

"What do you mean?" Shera sniffled, wiping her eyes as her spectacles returned to their rightful place.

'I mean.." trailed the man across from her. "...that it's time to find somethin' new, right? And I think we got that. We got the ship. The old crew're still hangin' around. We can get 'em to join up again. We'll need 'em to teach those young guns you and I got out there."

"I get it, Captain, but what's the point?"

"Reeve. Reeve's startin' somethin'. He wants to make it official. Somethin' to make up 'fer all the stuff Shinra did. They'll need resources, Shera. Ships. Pilots. Scientists. A crew, too. It's why we were celebratin' tonight. I didn't tell you 'cause I didn't know what you'd say. Didn't want you to feel like you had to stay either since they're ex-Shinra."

Realization flashed across Shera's face, her tears now dried. "You want us to work for them. But they're former Shinra. Cid, are you sure?"

After a moment of quiet, he nodded. "I am. I dunno why but I am. Guess it's 'cause I trust Reeve. Maybe it's 'cause I ain't waitin' to die no more like you said. We got a chance now. But bein' honest, I think you should leave. You done more than enough for me and the crew. Don't get me wrong. I want you around but a smart woman like you's hung around far too long."

Immediately, Shera shook her head. "No, I'm staying. "It's been you and me since day one, Captain. That's how it'll always be," vowed the woman of science, allowing a short laugh to escape her.

"Oh, uh, great then. Welcome aboard, Shera," half-coughed Cid, trying to ignore the thrumming his chest. He would fail to do so three months later, almost throwing his back out in what was a well-meaning but ill-timed move on the night of their official acceptance into the World Regenesis Organization. High on the swell of victory, Cid swept Shera off her feet only to leave her leaning back. He leaned in then, making his intentions clear. Luckily for him, the lady of logic had decided to make the illogical choice and gave him a chance. Followed by countless others up until a day eighteen months later, where a short visit to Cosmo Canyon had led to both making a lifelong promise to one another with only Red XIII and Vincent as witnesses. Then Shera gave him more, each and everyone happily accepted by her beloved husband as he began fixing what he had broken between them. And it stayed like that. Even when the love of his life got Geostigma. Even when Deepground rose to threaten the Planet once more. Even when their friends had finally had the chance to chide them for eloping together.

Now they found themselves on another trip to Cosmo Canyon, the rest of AVALANCHE having forced them to have another ceremony with all of them present. "I love the way she flies," proclaimed Cid at the helm of the Highwind once more as the crimson rock of their destination rose into view.

"Really, Captain?" spoke a voice from behind him, a calm and intelligent lilt that filled him with life. "Is she everything to you?"

"Well, woman," replied Cid to Shera with a grin, her old epithet having become a term of endearment between them. "She ain't everythin' to me."

She stayed by his side then, the happily married pair inseparable until the day afterwards, when Shera had to leave his side and launch her bouquet into a crowd of women in the center of Red XIII's village. All had their hands in the air except for one with Yuffie having drawn her shuriken, trying to snipe the thing out of the air for target practice. While the men laughed at such a ritual, one with a gun arm was sprinting forward, having caught a certain little girl amid the throng.

"Marlene!" screamed Barret, moving with a speed that belied his size as he snatched up his daughter.

"Never seen the big man move so fast, eh, Strife?" guffawed Cid as he idled with Cloud, both enjoying the scene at Barret's expense. But a few seconds later, the only blonde laughing was the one without a martial artist for a girlfriend. Especially since that female fighter hadn't joined the other ladies. From the side, she had made a running dive for Marlene, failing to save the little girl. Instead, she wound up with Shera's bundle of flowers in her grip.

Rising slowly, Tifa shot her hero a shy but hopeful smile. It was one that he couldn't help but return, his half smile smaller but no less genuine. Still, the playful elbow's from Cid didn't help ease the tension between them. Neither did Barret's roar of anguish, having saved one daughter only to lose another. But what did help was her coming over and asking him for a dance. "One song?" Tifa asked, shy yet obviously elated as the tribal drums started a beat.

"Sure," agreed Cloud, a smirk having broken through his stoic facade as he joined the woman who had become more than just a friend or childhood crush to him.

Patting the spiky haired man on the back, Cid was along only for a few moments as his wife joined him, her eyes on a certain bladesman and brawler. "How long do you think it'll take?"

Cid snickered. "With how long it took 'em to even start datin', I'd say by the time we're old and gray."

"Then do you think it's time we stepped in, dear?" asked Shera, her arm looped with his.

"Oh, definitely, darlin'. Definitely," said Cid as he and the one constant in his life happily watched their friends enjoy a new start.

**WOOH! UPDATE! Please review! *raises hands like into American Football field goal position* =) This chapter was the longest so far, I believe. And it was less on the relationship of the guy and the thing. The Highwind is still important though since it serves as a huge reason as to why Cid and Shera stick together. So yeah, I think it fulfills the running them of this story.**


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